I'll Be One of Them
by lyssanoelle
Summary: Just a short fluffy piece.  Meg loves Christmastime.  No Erik, just a six year old Meg Giry.


**A/N: So. . . I was thinking of ideas for The Littlest One, when this sort of popped in my head, because I enjoy writing little Meg so much (: No Erik is present at this time, sorry if you were hoping for that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

Meg Giry loved Christmastime at the Opera Populaire.

It wasn't because of presents, feasts, or grand parties though. She loved Christmastime because all of the other young children that were not yet part of the professional ensemble left to spend time with their families. All except her. Meg was allowed to stay, considering that she didn't really have anywhere else to go. She loved seeing all of the decorations, dozens upon dozens of real Christmas tress, throughout the whole theater.

People generally seemed to be in a better mood too. Her mother wasn't as stern, the older ballerinas were kinder, and even those in the productions took notice to little Meg. Her mother would let her sit in on the ballet dancer's rehearsals and lessons, and it wasn't unusual for Meg to dance with them. She wasn't en pointe yet like the rest of them, her mother had told her when she was eight she would most likely begin her own pointe work. Meg thought, being only six, that the next two years of her life would be the dullest she ever had to face. She yearned for pointe shoes, more than anything else these days. She would watch enviously as the older girls all went to the chalk box and then to rehearsal, rising up on the tops of their toes. It was magical to her.

But the best part of every holiday season was the day after Christmas, when her mother would take her to a little café for lunch, and then to the ballet theater, where they would see whatever ballet they were performing during the holidays. Madame Giry had been taking Meg since she was no more than three years old. These ballerinas fascinated Meg even more than the ones at the Opera House, and she looked forward to it every year.

This year, her mother was taking her to see Giselle, and Meg wouldn't stop talking about it.

"Monsieur Buquet," she started a week before Christmas, as the head stagehand was peering through the older ballet girl's dormitory window, "did you hear that my mother is taking me to see Giselle next week?"

Joseph Buquet looked down at the young girl "Wha- oh yes, Little Giry" he said, trying to get the small child away from him.

Meg looked at him curiously. "Monsieur. . . what _are_ you doing?" She asked in a matter of fact tone, raising one of her blonde eyebrows.

"Nothing." The older man said, cursing Meg in his mind. "Go away now." He said rather harshly.

Meg walked away, looking a bit defeated, but turned around sharply, only to see his head plastered back on the door. She stuck her tongue out at his increasing bald spot.

She continued walking down the long corridors, until she was in the main entrance hall. She raced down the grand staircases, her long, blond hair rippling behind her. She saw one of the teenage maids mopping the floors and came up to her.

"Marianna, did you hear?" she asked the maid, who stopped her mopping and looked at her with tired eyes, "My maman is taking me to see Giselle the day after Christmas! Isn't that grand?"

But Marianna didn't seem as excited as Meg. "Little Giry, I just mopped those stairs. Run off now." Meg did as she was told, sulking away from the entrance hall.

While she was sulking, she thought quietly to herself. Why did everyone call her Little Giry? It was quite ridiculous in her small mind. Sure, she was only six, and well. . . the smallest of the ballet girls, and she was Madame Giry's daughter, and people were always saying they looked alike. . . but she had a name! And people even had the privilege of choosing between Marguerite (her full name, which she partially detested), and Meg. Really, calling her Little Giry was starting to get annoying.

At long last, the twenty-sixth of December arrived, and Meg woke up with a smile already on her face. She put on her best dress, a pale blue one with lace embroidery on the sleeves and hem of the skirt. She wore her white tights (the pair without the hole in the knee), and had Marianna braid her hair and tie it off with a matching ribbon. Once it was time to go, she buckled her black shoes, and tied her cloak on, and met her mother by the main doors.

"Bonjour maman!" she said happily as she came down the steps, and she saw a smile on her mother's face, a rare occurrence in recent times.

"Bonjour ma chérie" her mother said warmly, and held open the door as Meg neared the bottom of the steps. Together they walked down the numerous steps to ground level from the theater, and across the street, to the café, where both mother and daughter ordered water and a croissant. Both ate in relative silence, until Madame Giry paid the bill, and motioned for her daughter to stand up.

They began on their way to the Ballet Theater, little Meg's body flooding with excitement. Still though, she was silent. Finally, they entered the other theater, and Meg couldn't help but think it was grand, even if it was a smaller scale than the Opera Populaire. The two were shown to their seats, and sat in silence. Meg watched the people bustle around her, and silently began to play a game that she regularly played with the other young girls in her head. She would choose a person in the crowd, and came up with their life story. It didn't matter if it was accurate, as long as it was interesting. In the ballet dormitories, whoever told the most interesting story was raised on a sort of pedestal, and all the other girls looked up to her. Meg was usually this girl, until a few weeks ago someone decided it wasn't fair, because she lived here all the time. Meg didn't get their reasoning, and still came up with the best stories anyway.

The woman with the pearls taking sitting down opposite the plump man, in two of the best seats, she was a distant cousin to the Queen, but was orphaned at birth at raised in a life of poverty, until she met the man, and he showed her his family's wealth, and they lived happily ever after, but with no children, because they decided it would be to hectic, and they didn't want their fine things ruined.

The girl who looked about a year younger than Meg, with dark brown ringlets, next to a rather strict looking woman was the daughter of one of the musicians in the orchestra. The strict woman was her nanny, and brought her here to hear her father play. She didn't live in France though, because her dress was a bit wrinkled, like it had been folded and taken on a train through the countryside. She would go back home tomorrow, and play with her dolls and other nice things.

She continued making up stories until the stage lights came on, and the ballerinas started coming out. They all looked so graceful, and Meg envied them. She wanted to be them, dancing on a stage entirely devoted to ballet, rising up on pretty pink satin shoes, and having a whole audience enchanted.

Meg was quite proud to say that she was one of the only children that stayed awake for the entire three acts, and when she and her mother were walking back to their own theater, hand in hand, she looked up at her, with her sapphire-blue eyes, and rosy cheeks.

"Maman?" she said, her voice tiny, but determined. "Someday, I'll be one of them."

And once again, her mother smiled down at her. "I know Meg, I know."

**A/N: No real point to this. . . back to The Littlest One I go. Leave reviews please? Please don't go crazy on me if some of my facts were wrong or something. Originally, they were going to see The Nutcracker, but the I realized that didn't come out until the 1890's or something. So, if something is wrong factually, it's fiction, okay? Thanks (: Oh, and brownie points if you guessed you the little girl with brown ringlets was (:**


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